


Without Fire

by michaelandthegodsquad



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash, Shotgunning, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-22 07:11:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19662370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michaelandthegodsquad/pseuds/michaelandthegodsquad
Summary: Wilhelm frowns and subtly switches his cigarette to the hand further from Tim. "Sorry," he says quietly. "Wouldn't do it in front of you so much if I knew.""Oh, it's fine!" Tim is quick to say—maybe a bit too quick. "Truthfully I've always been sort of curious."OR:Wilhelm helps Tim try smoking.





	Without Fire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kaiperion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiperion/gifts).



> I literally wrote this over three years ago and it's just been sitting in my phone???
> 
> I think I wrote this for Kai's Mafia AU, in which Jack and Tim are twins, Jack is a mafioso, and Tim has managed to carve out a regular life for himself. That is until there's an attempt on Tim's life when he is mistaken for Jack, and Tim is forced to stay with Jack until they find the responsible parties. Wilhelm has been assigned as Tim's bodyguard. (I think that was the premise anyway?? I'll edit later if I got anything wrong.)
> 
> Not that you need this much context for this scene but now you have it. There's implied Rhack in the background if you squint but not enough to tag it.

"How long have you smoked?" Tim asks when Wilhelm lights up his first cigarette of the day, or at least the first that Tim sees. It's been about a week since he was dragged back to the mansion, which is beautiful but...a bit boring, honestly, if you're not involved in the business like everyone else is. He makes a note to ask Rhys how he keeps himself busy all day, and tries not to blush when he thinks that he may already know the answer.  
  
Wilhelm's shoulders relax just a bit as he takes his first drag, Tim notes, but don't look any less broad with the movement. He shrugs and pulls the ashtray on the coffee table closer, cigarette poised above it hanging loosely between his fingers. "Since I was 16 maybe? Didn't exactly mark the date." Somehow he sounds even more gruff than usual before his first smoke, though Tim tries not to think about that too hard.  
  
"How about you?" Wilhelm asks after a moment, cigarette held just by his lips as he speaks. "Did you quit or something? Jack smokes like a chimney, always kinda figured you would too."  
  
Tim shakes his head. "I had asthma as a kid. I think that was enough to put me off 'em from the start," he mumbles, settling deeper into his chair and pulling his knees up to his chest.  
  
Wilhelm frowns and subtly switches his cigarette to the hand further from Tim, as if that will somehow keep the smoke from reaching him; Tim appreciates the thought anyway. "Sorry," Wilhelm says quietly. "Wouldn't do it in front of you so much if I knew."  
  
"Oh, it's fine!" Tim is quick to say—maybe a bit too quick—"I outgrew it. The asthma, that is." He shifts in his seat again, tucking his legs underneath him and sitting on his heels. "Truthfully I've always been sort of curious."  
  
Wilhelm pauses then, cigarette halfway to his mouth, and cocks an eyebrow. "You wanna try?"  
  
Tim considers that for a moment—looks at Wilhelm with his half-buttoned shirt, suspenders hanging loosely around his waist, the cool confidence he always carries himself with—and nods, wide-eyed, hesitant hand reaching out. Wilhelm passes him the cigarette, chuckling at the the alarmed look in Tim's eyes. "It's not a joint, kid, you don't need to look so scared." He pauses and tilts his head for a moment, "But if you ever wanna try that I can help you out."  
  
Tim smiles in what he hopes is a "hey, I'm a cool and totally casual kinda guy who likes to try new things" sort of fashion, but thinks he probably just comes off as sweaty and terrified. He takes a deep breath, eyeing the way ash hangs precariously on the end of the cigarette, and brings it to his lips, trying not to think about the intense way Wilhelm watches him as he inhales.  
  
_Burns_ , is his first thought, sharp and acrid like chemicals—which just makes sense, Tim supposes—and he breaks into a coughing fit, nearly dropping the cigarette before Wilhelm takes it with a low chuckle and a clap on Tim's back. His hand is huge where it splays out with a solid _t_ _hump_ between his shoulders, and Tim's breath stutters for another reason entirely.  
  
"You can try one of my cigars later if you want," Wilhelm says once Tim has caught his breath. "Sometimes they go down a little easier." Tim lets out a dry, wheezing laugh, patting his palm against his chest one more time.  
  
"Y'know, I think I'm good," he says after a moment. "I've decided I like breathing more." Wilhelm laughs at that, low and gruff, and Tim looks up at him with still-watering eyes, swallowing when he realizes how close Wilhelm still is, hovering by Tim's chair and squinting down at him in consideration.  
  
"I wanna try something," Wilhelm says under his breath, so quietly that Tim might not have heard him had he been any further away. Tim opens his mouth to reply—and he must imagine the way Wilhelm's eyes flick down to his mouth, right?—but ends up nodding instead.

Wilhelm nods back once, curtly, then looks away to retrieve the cigarette from where it's still burning in the ashtray. Tim watches closely as he brings it to his lips and inhales, the end glowing amber as the ash creeps up the length. Wilhelm doesn't exhale, instead keeping his lips shut tight and depositing the cigarette back into the ashtray.  
  
He turns back to Tim, then, big hand reaching up to his face, long fingers curling around his jaw and coaxing his mouth open. Wilhelm leans in and Tim's eyes widen, his pulse accelerating as he awaits contact, but it never comes.  
  
Instead, when Wilhelm is mere inches away, he parts his lips, exhaling smoke into Tim's open mouth. Tim gasps, pulling smoke into his lungs, the familiar secondhand flavor mixed with something new that must be entirely Wilhelm.  
  
Wilhelm pushes his mouth closed, says, "Hold it," under his breath, and Tim tries to nod, holding his breath for a moment until he finally lets out a shaky breath, this time only coughing slightly. He breathes in again, dinstinctly aware of Wilhelm's hand on his face, his close proximity, the smell of his cologne.  
  
"Okay?" Wilhelm asks, his breath brushing Tim's chin, before letting go of Tim's face and pulling away, returning to his seat on the couch.  
  
Tim nods from where he's now sprawled in his chair. "Yeah," he lies. "Yeah, I'm alright."

**Author's Note:**

> Come harass me on [Tumblr](http://michaelandthegodsquad.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/mikeandgodsquad) and let's cry about stuff


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